


“You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”

by Ftballfangrl



Series: 31 days of Deledier [4]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 31 days of Deledier, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 00:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ftballfangrl/pseuds/Ftballfangrl





	“You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”

“Eric Dier places the ball on the spot. And England win on penalties. History in itself!” 

Dele scrolled his thumb along the bottom of the screen, watching the red bar scroll back to the beginning of the video. He pressed play and chewed on the collar of his top as he watched Eric slot that ball home again. He closed the video and carried on scrolling through the hashtag on twitter, amazed as he saw video after video of fans celebrating back home. Beer being thrown everywhere, bodies thronging in a tangled mess of exhilaration. Dele laughed as he watched a guy jump on top of his friends, their faces wide with happiness as they all crumpled to the floor. 

They’d done that. They’d created those scenes. They’d won a fucking penalty shootout. 

He still couldn’t quite believe it. Every time he watched Pickford make that save and then Eric score his stomach lurched. It was as though he was expecting to hit upon a video that showed something different. That he’d find one and his heart would sink because he’d watch Bacca score and Eric miss and the reality of it all would come crashing down on him. 

But that wasn’t going to happen. Because it was real. He’d been a spectator, stood with his arms around his team mates in front of the bench. Every time on of the lads had walked up to the spot he felt his heart pound and his pulse race. He stared at the goal, urging with every fibre of his being for them to score. When Hendo’s was saved his legs had wobbled beneath him and that familiar sense of dread had hovered over him. 

He found another video and pressed play. It was by a fan, shot from behind the goal and Dele’s skin prickled as he remembered the noise from the stadium. It might as well have been an away game. The Colombia fans had outnumbered the English in vast quantities and the whistles every time an England player had stepped up had been deafening. He watched Pickford’s save again, that left hand rising and smacking the ball away. He chuckled at his celebration and then his heart clenched in his chest. 

He’d seen it probably fifty times now, maybe more. But every time he found a new angle and he watched as Eric walked forwards and placed the ball on the spot his heart swelled and his chest felt tight. He could feel the heat, hear the cacophony of the stadium ringing in his ears and he remembered almost keeling over with the need for Eric to score. 

And he’d done it. And then there was chaos, people running and jumping and shouting. His thigh had protested as he ran onto he pitch, pulse roaring in his ears as he’d joined his team mates streaming across the grass. All he’d wanted to do was to get to Eric. 

Get to Eric and kiss him. 

Even now, hours after, his cheeks burned as he remembered the thought entering his head. He’d finally got to the other side of the pitch and he’d skirted round the edge of the group, searching for Eric. When he’d finally laid his hands on him, Eric’s skin slick with sweat, the urge to grab him and pull their mouths together had almost overwhelmed him. 

He closed the video and swiped his thumb over the screen to close Twitter. His eyes burned at the brightness of his screen and he looked at the time. 3:50am. He knew he should probably try and get some sleep but the adrenaline from the match was still coursing through his veins and every time he’d tried to close his eyes he couldn’t get Eric out of his head. 

Eric. Eric. Eric. 

The name beat a steady rhythm alongside his heartbeat and Dele dug his fingernails into his palms. He’d had these types of thoughts before but they’d been fleeting. In the past he’d put it down to the nature of their friendship and how close they were. 

But out here in Russia, things had started to feel different. He didn’t know if it was the press of Eric’s thigh against his during their coach rides or the way those blue eyes always found his when someone made a joke Eric knew he’d find funny. Maybe it was the new tightness in his chest whenever Eric walked around the changing room, his toned body on show and the tingling sensation it caused crawling across his skin. It definitely had something to do with the way his stomach had sank when he’d learned they were going to be sleeping in separate hotel rooms for most of the trip. 

Dele sighed and tapped his fingers on his phone screen. He wondered whether anyone else on the team was having trouble sleeping. He scoffed as he recalled Jack, Picks and Maguire sneaking off with their partners back to the family hotel. Definitely not much sleeping going on there. An image of Eric, lay in his hotel room flitted across Dele’s vision and he bit his lip. Was he awake? Was he replaying videos of his winning penalty over and over? Was he thinking about Dele? 

He unlocked his phone again and opened up Whatsapp. Eric’s name was third on the list, under Harry and Sally. He pressed on his name and their chat history opened up. He rubbed his thumb across the screen and reread the conversation they’d had only a few hours before. 

You: I hate this hotel. 

Diet: Are you moaning about being on your own again? 

You: Yes. It’s stupid. 

Diet: Del, its 2am please go to sleep. 

The time stamps on the messages indicated a break in their conversation and it picked back up again half an hour later. 

Diet: We fucking did it Delboy. 

You: Some of us are trying to sleep you know. 

Diet: Oh fuck off. 

Another break, ten minutes this time.

You: You did it. 

Diet: We did it Del, together. 

A warmth spread through Dele’s chest as he reread the last message. He knew Eric had meant the whole team, that he was talking about how good they all worked as a unit. But he allowed a tiny part of himself to imagine that Eric was talking about the two of them, just them and no-one else. 

He pressed on the new message box and the keypad popped up. His thumbs hovered for a few seconds and he tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. If he messaged Eric now what was he expecting? What was he hoping for? He chewed on his bottom lip and looked back down at his phone. 

You: You up?

He hit the send button and dropped the phone down on his chest. For some reason his pulse was racing and his breathing was uneven. Talking to Eric at an ungodly hour wasn’t a new thing. There had been plenty of times when they’d stayed up talking, eyes straining with tiredness until one of them would admit defeat and say goodnight first. His phone vibrated and he turned it over, glancing at the notification on the lock screen. 

Diet: I am now. Was that a booty text? 

Dele’s heart thumped in his chest and he scrambled up into a sitting position and opened his phone. 

Diet: Was it meant for someone else? 

The second message hadn’t shown up initially and Dele’s stomach did a weird flip as he read them both together. He cradled the phone between his fingers and stared down at the screen. 

He typed out ‘do you want it to be?’ before quickly deleting it. Normally he’d just pass it off as a joke, send what he’d just typed and then laugh as the banter started flying back and forth between them. He didn’t know what to do with the split second of hope that had spiked in his chest when he’d read that first message. He didn’t know how to acknowledge the growing ache in his stomach as Eric continued to crowd in on every thought he had. 

You: Can I come to your room? 

Diet: You do realise what time it is?

Diet: I’ll put the door on latch. 

There’d been barely three seconds between Eric’s two messages and he smiled as he pictured him pushing himself up from his bed and ambling sleepily over to the door. Dele told Eric he’d be a couple of minutes and threw his phone down next to him on the bed. 

He couldn’t sleep. That’s why he was going to Eric’s room. It was only like when they normally shared one and they ended up in the same bed, sharing memes and laughing at stupid videos. The memory of waking up in a cold hotel room in some random city floats across his mind and he takes a deep breath in as he remembers the weight of an arm across his midriff, blond hair golden in the early morning sun. 

It’s just them. Diet and Delboy, nothing has changed. 

***

As soon as he pushed open the door to Eric’s room and spotted him lying on his bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, Dele knew that he was wrong. His pulse had started racing and he’d felt heat bloom in his cheeks and he cursed himself for how utterly, utterly wrong he had been. The door woodshed closed behind him and Eric shifted, his head turning on the pillow he was leaning against. Dele’s hands were in his pockets and he pinched the skin of his thighs. 

“Del,” Eric said, raising his eyebrows at him. Dele snapped his eyes to Eric and forced a smile on to his face. The low glow from Eric’s phone was illuminating his face and Dele inclined his head towards it as he walked forwards. “You think you’ve seen them all yet?” he asked, knowing that Eric was doing exactly the same as he’d been. A grin danced across Eric’s face and Dele’s heart contracted at how happy he looked. He dropped himself down on the bed and he made a conscious effort to stay near the edge, leaving a noticeable gap between them. Eric thumbs were working furiously across his screen and Dele arched his neck slightly so he could get a look. 

“Still doesn’t feel real does it? That we actually did it? Have you seen the one in London? All of those people, all of that beer. It’s mad.” 

Eric was speaking quickly, words tripping over themselves and Dele watched his lips, catching every single one. He always got like this when he was excited or happy. There were times after a win when Dele had to remind him to slow down, laughing as the lilt of a Portuguese accent started to lace his voice. Eric was normally so stoic, calm and measured that seeing him so hyped up made Dele wish he could win every game, just for him. He shifted over slightly, swallowing as he narrowed the gap between them on the mattress by a few more inches. 

“Look, look at this one. It’s some pub in the Midlands. The staff are on the bar. They all start singing It’s Coming Home at the end. Is it Del? Do you think it is?” There it was again, the accent, the rushed need to say everything at the same time. The crinkles around his eyes as he smiled, those blue eyes twinkling. Dele smiled, wider this time and he nodded his head. Eric let out a low laugh and went back to looking at his phone. Dele watched as he hit play on another video, the commentary from the game filling the silence. He scooted over, erasing another bit of space and Eric angled his phone so that they could both see. Dele focused on it for a few seconds but his eyes drifted back up to Eric’s face and he watched as Eric beamed, the pride he felt at what they had done, what he had done, written all over his face. 

Dele wanted to bottle it, this moment. He wanted to capture it and store it away. He wanted to be able to tell Eric that every time he had to pick him up off the floor after a loss, every time he caught him searching his name on twitter after a bad game, every time he had to sit next to him in stoney silence because he’d disappeared inside his own head again that none of that mattered. He wanted to be able to show Eric the way he looked now, so that he’d never doubt himself again. And he wanted it for himself. He wanted to be able to delve into his memories and when he thought about the Colombia game and he wanted to be able to picture this moment, frame by frame. He wanted Eric, smiling and happy and proud of himself to be the thing that he remembered. 

Eric waved a hand in front of his face breaking up Dele’s thoughts. “Earth to Delboy,” he said pushing him on the shoulder. Dele’s skin burned at the contact and he had to look away from Eric’s stare. Eric place a hand back on his shoulder and Dele felt his pulse quicken. “Del, why are you here?” he asked, leaning in to try and catch his eye. Dele shrugged his shoulders in response and something changed in Eric’s expression. He’d clearly been expecting some sort of sarcastic response, a dig about making sure Eric’s ego didn’t get too big. Dele scrambled around his brain for something to say, anything that would change that look on Eric’s face and dispel the tension that was building between them. 

“I told you this hotel is stupid. Why do we even need separate rooms.” 

It wasn’t what he’d planned to say but the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. His heart was hammering against his chest and he was sure Eric would be able to hear the rhythm it was beating against his ribcage. There was a pause and Dele thought about what excuse he could use to leave. But then Eric tugged on his arm and started to pull the thin white cover down from underneath him. Dele scrunched his face up as Eric tugged his arm again. 

“So essentially you’ve come to my room and woke me up at 4am, to cuddle?” Eric asked his lips pulled up in a smile. Panic ballooned in Dele’s chest but he smiled and flipped Eric the finger. “What’s up can’t you sleep without me?” Eric teased again. 

“I was worried you’d be scared of the monster under the bed again.”

“That was one nightmare and you still will not let that go.”

“It happened twice actually, in two separate hotels. I recall it being you who needed a cuddle then.”

Eric threw his pillow at him and Dele laughed, the panic subsiding. This was good, this was normal. They were best friends. Best friends who happened to have made a habit out of sharing hotel beds, but that was beside the point. Eric pulled on the sheet again and Dele lifted his hips this time, allowing it to be pulled from underneath him. 

“Come on then. It’s nearly five in the morning,” Eric muttered, throwing the sheet over Dele’s legs. He shuffled around, lowering himself down until he was lying on his back, head propped up with a few pillows. Dele began to move slowly, turning around to pull at the pillows on his side of the bed. Eric kicked one leg over the top of the sheet and turned onto his side, facing inwards towards him. “Since when do you sleep in shorts?” Eric asked, tugging at the material on Dele’s right leg. God it really wasn’t normal for your best friend to know you didn’t normally sleep in shorts. 

“Bit cold,” he whispered, the excuse sounding weak. Eric laughed and it looked as if he was about to say something when his phone pinged. Dele let out a breath as Eric turned away from him and picked up his phone. “One last video before we go to sleep? We’ve both been tagged in this one,” Eric told him, rolling onto his back and turning his phone round so the video filled the screen. Dele’s chest burned as a topless Eric walked into view. He was talking behind his hand to Slabhead and Jack was trialing behind them. They walked a few more paces before both Jack and Harry started pointing at something across the pitch. 

Dele knew what was coming and he felt the air rush out of his lungs. He saw himself come into view and he cringed a little as video Dele did a small little run up before chucking himself at Eric. Eric had caught him, one hand snaking around his waist, the other resting underneath him. Dele could still feel the heat from that hand, holding him up, fingers brushing the top of his thigh. Eric had held him like that as if it were the most natural thing in the world but looking at it now made Dele’s stomach flutter. He’d still been thinking about kissing him at that point and the fact Eric had insisted on parading round with no shirt on had not helped matters. 

“The caption on the video says bromance still going strong,” Eric told him, giggling a little before locking his phone. Dele couldn’t respond, instead he just stared at expanse of mattress that lay between them. Eric rolled over to face the other way, placing his phone down on the bedside table. “Right, I think we really should get some sleep now Del,” he said, his voice soft around the edges. He settled down with his back to Dele and it struck him how domestic it felt.

Eric had never once told Dele that he couldn’t share a bed with him. He hadn’t even balked the first time it had happened. Dele had been cold and homesick and he hadn’t been able to stop the small sob from escaping the back of his throat. Eric had got up out of his own bed, walked over to his and slipped under the covers. They hadn’t touched or cuddled, Eric had simply just lay next to him, a solid reassuring presence that had allowed Dele to drift off to sleep. By now it had just become routine. He lay in the darkness, watching Eric’s shoulder rise and fall with his breathing and he thought about the time Eric hadn’t gone with the team because of injury and how empty that bed had felt. He’d become so used to having Eric there, hearing the soft sound his breathing and feeling the warmth of his body. 

But it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just because of the physical presence or because it had become a habit neither of them seemed bothered to break. No, somewhere along the way, amongst all the hotel rooms they’d shared, the beds that they’d slept in, the whispered conversations they’d had in the early hours sharing things they never would have otherwise something had happened. Something had changed.

“I wanted to kiss you.” 

His voice was quiet and Dele wouldn’t have believed he’d said the words out loud if he hadn’t seen Eric’s back stiffen. He didn’t move and Dele swallowed around the lump in his throat. His heart was racing but his mouth was too full with words and he could feel his body shaking as he shuffled forwards. Eric moved his head slightly to the side but stayed silent and Dele took a deep breath. He lifted himself off the mattress, just enough to move easily. He came to rest an inch away from Eric, his head level with the slope of his shoulders. 

“I wanted to kiss you on the pitch earlier. I wanted to kiss you when I messaged you asking if you were still awake. I wanted to kiss you when I opened the door. Fuck Eric I think I’ve wanted to kiss since the moment you climbed into my bed back in 2016.” 

The words were coming thick and fast and as he told Eric what had been eating away at his insides for far longer than even he had realised he lowered his head, bringing it to rest between Eric’s shoulder blades. 

“I want to kiss you now.” He whispered the words against Eric’s skin and he felt goosebumps rise as his breath caressed his back. The bridge of his nose was resting on Eric’s spine and he felt it move as Eric shifted slightly. A jolt went through him as Eric reached back and wrapped his fingers around Dele’s wrist, not letting go as he rolled over. Their eyes met and Dele felt like he couldn’t breath. Eric released the grip and bought his hand up to cup Dele’s face. He dragged his thumb across his cheekbone and Dele’s pulse roared in his ears. The air was thick around them and Dele licked his bottom lip as Eric’s gaze fell to his mouth. He raised his hand and mirrored Eric’s actions, the coarse hairs on his jaw rubbing against his palm. 

They were standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously, the threat of a fall hanging over them. Dele tilted his head to the side slightly, lips parting. It was a small movement but Eric responded by moving closer, the warmth of his breath tickling Dele’s chin. They stared at each other, a million reasons why they shouldn’t be doing this passing silently between them. A million reasons why they should let go and turn over, go to sleep and act like it never happened. A million reasons why this could ruin everything.

“I wanted to kiss you too.” 

Their lips met and it was tentative and slow. A small peck and another one and then it was deeper, more urgent. Dele sighed into Eric’s mouth and his tongue danced along his bottom lip and he thought he’d never feel this way again.

There were a million reasons why they should stop and Dele pulled away, eyes serching Eric’s face. A million reasons that would crowd in on them tomorrow morning. But for now there was one reason why Dele didn’t care and it was wrapped up in those eyes, that voice and the feel of that body beneath his hands. He bit his lip and Eric pulled him back in and Dele marvelled at how perfectly they seem to fit together. 

They were standing at the edge of a precipice and as Eric wrapped his arm around Dele’s waist and pulled him on top of him all he could think about was how much he was going to enjoy the fall. 


End file.
